(I’m about four years old in this story. My mom is out shopping, so my dad’s in charge of watching me. I decide to draw in my room, and as I’m a relatively quiet child my dad doesn’t think much of it and starts watching TV. Sometime later, he sees me toddle over to the bathroom. When I don’t come out for several minutes, he comes to investigate… and finds me doodling on the wall.)
Dad: “[My Name], why are you drawing on the bathroom wall?”
Me: *nonchalantly* “I ran out of space in my room.”
(My father rushed to my room to find that, yes, I’d run out of drawing paper and scribbled all over my bedroom walls. After getting it cleaned up, my parents told me to ask for more paper if I ran out again, and taped a few sheets to my walls just in case. Moral of the story: never, ever trust a quiet toddler.)
(My husband and I have the worst sense of humor. I am at my dad’s place helping to convert a bedroom into an office. The bedroom was used to house a renter a couple of months back, and my dad has been known to bring in interesting characters. While cleaning, I discover an odd article of clothing hanging in the closet that I don’t recognize. I pull it out, and, upon further inspection, I realize that what I thought was a top is actually a pair of black, peekaboo-level, fancy underwear. Horrified, I talk to my dad about it, and he says he believes it belonged to a renter, but to throw it away as the chances of being able to return it are pretty slim. About an hour later, I’m making German dumplings because I’m trying to make the family recipe gluten-free so my husband and I can have it together. My dad hates dumplings, so once I’m done, I end up throwing away the mix and dumplings that didn’t work. As I do so, I see the underwear. I head to the living room where my dad is watching TV.)
Me: “I hope no one is coming back for that underwear.”
Dad: “Why?”
Me: “Because I just took a dumpling on ’em!”
(Cue the groans of horror and disgust. On the bright side, my husband was quite proud of me for my negative-level quality of a joke! I definitely chose a good man!)
(A family comes in and sits at a booth: Dad, two girls ages four to six, and Mom. They are near my register, so I don’t catch the whole conversation, but apparently, Mom and Dad are explaining to the girls that Mom is going to be having a baby. Suddenly:)
Girl: *yelling loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear* “DADDY! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MOMMY?!”
Our family was having dinner at my mom’s house. At the conclusion of the meal, Nana told my youngest son — twelve years old — he could have a cookie if he helped clear the table. He promptly seized the cookie with one hand and took an enormous bite while collecting utensils with the other hand. Nana suggested gently that the cookie was for after the table was cleared, to which my son replied with a mischievous grin, through a mouthful of cookie crumbs, “But Nana! I’m just multitasking!”
(I’m in my office at home when my son knocks on the door. For background, he’s currently taking World Geography at the local community college, and they’re currently working through Europe.)
Me: “Come in!”
Son: *comes in with his hand out* “Dad, where’s Glasgow?”
Me: “It’s in Scotland.”
Son: “No, where does glass go?!”
(It’s only then that I see he’s holding a few small pieces of glass that I must’ve tracked in from outside.)
Me: “Oh, um… Just in the garbage is fine. Sorry.”
(We had a good laugh about that. Boy, I’m getting deaf in my old age.)
